


all this devotion was rushing out of me;

by sufianas



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Ballet, Character Study, Jongin Birthday Week 2021, M/M, selena gomez vc: everything is not what it seems!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29818647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sufianas/pseuds/sufianas
Summary: jongin has everything he has ever desired ever since he was a young boy, dancing his heart out in a small ballet studio in korea. he has the illustrious background, spanning from korea to the distinguished paris opera ballet. he has the role of a lifetime so early into his career, and he even has an elusive lover who vanishes into thin air whenever jongin seems to need him most. junmyeon has always needed to be found, much like passion, like devotion to a religion, and jongin is all too ready to give in to his demands.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Kim Junmyeon | Suho
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12
Collections: Challenge #14 — We Artist Baby!





	all this devotion was rushing out of me;

**ACT 1: PAS DE DEUX**

Jongin stares across the ballet studio into the reflection of his eyes in the mirror. The man who meets his gaze cuts a gaunt figure, his eyeballs sagging into his sockets. His ballet slippers sit beside his feet as he leans forward into a stretch, pushing his weight against his core. Jongin lets his eyes fall shut; the act of contorting his body into a million different positions has always steadied his mind.

The ballet studio is devoid of the laughter and hushed chatter of the members of the company at this hour. Moonlight floods into the studio, bathing the hardwood in light. Jongin stands in the First position, sliding into his ballet slippers as he sinks into a plié. Belatedly, Jongin can feel the ache spread through his thighs. It hasn’t even been a full eighteen hours (forget twenty four, no self-respecting dancer would waste that much idle time) since he was in this studio. 

He has to set an example for all the hopefuls in the corps and the corphyées. He is the Paris Opera Ballet’s very own Cinderella story; little Kim Jongin who rose from the ranks and landed his first premier danseur role after a mere three years in the quadrilles.

It felt surreal. Still _feels_ surreal to walk past the bulletin board and there, on a nondescript paper, is his name printed in ink next to the role of Albrecht. 

**🎶**

He ends the scene with a double tour en l’air, just as he’d practiced with the choreographer, slaving over the formations into the wee hours of the night. When Jongin opens his eyes, sweat dripping down his neck, he is greeted to the sight of his peers watching him. Some are awed, while others sneer at him with thinly veiled jealousy. Jongin doesn’t mind. One must have thick skin to survive in a ballet company, in an industry where you are stamped with an expiry date. The only opinions which matter are those of the company director and the critics. One poor review and his blossoming career will be dashed. 

“You have to stop working yourself so hard.”

Jongin rolls his eyes. “I’ll rest when the performance is over.”

“That’ll be months from now!”

“And I’m telling you that’s when I’ll rest.”

The man sighs. “Jongin…”

The sound of exasperation makes Jongin look up and he offers the man a smile. “My dearest Junmyeonnie, you have to stop worrying. Or those frown lines will become permanent. It ages you and you _know_ I can’t be seen with an old man.”

This elicits a laugh from Junmyeon as he sits across from Jongin, offering to help him with his stretches. “Oh of course, Your Majesty. How else may this humble servant serve you?”

A few passerby's give Jongin an odd look. He brushes it off, redirecting his focus to Junmyeon. “Never leave me.”

“Or what? You’ll hunt me down?”

“Exactly.”

**🎶**

The leotard feels too tight, its fabric digging into Jongin’s skin. He claws at the polyester, breathing heavy. In the distance, he can hear the door to his dressing room open. “Get out,” he howls. When that doesn’t work, Jongin throws a vase of fresh flowers in the direction of the interruption. 

Where is Junmyeon? He needs Junmyeon. Junmyeon promised he would be there. Jongin’s nails dig into his forearms as he scratches his skin. The pain stings; it brings reality to the forefront of his mind. He does not have to time to break down right now. Jongin has worked too hard, worked himself to the fucking _bone_ , for this moment. 

Besides, Junmyeon would never miss his big night. He has been with Jongin through every step of the way, at every moment, every misstep, every hiccup. Jongin takes a deep breath, reassured. Yes, that must be it. Junmyeon is probably out in the crowd and he will be so upset when he realizes Jongin threw his bouquet at an unsuspecting stage hand. (He should probably apologize for that too.) 

His name appearing on the cast sheet as a principal wasn’t the only stroke of luck in his life. He had met Junmyeon that week, barely able to keep his eyes open after a gruelling twenty hours of practice. His tired and aching limbs found refuge in Junmyeon; his battered and bleeding heart had made a home in Junmyeon’s arms.

“Jongin,” a different stage hand speaks. “Five minutes to curtain!”

_This_ is his moment.

**ACT 2: APPARITION DE GISELLE**

He hasn’t seen Junmyeon in weeks. Jongin thought he’d caught a glimpse of him at the end of the performance, but he’d been bombarded by wellwishers and Junmyeon had slipped away. Slipped through Jongin’s fingers like granules of sand. He finds himself clutching his fingers into fists in an attempt to turn back time, to capture Junmyeon in his grasp.

The rest of the run of _Giselle_ at the Palais Garnier had been a haze; a blur of arabesques, pas de basques, ballonés, and grande jetés. Jongin sleepwalked through it all, medicated on prescription painkillers and cigarettes to kill his appetite, with only one thought on his mind: _Junmyeon…_

He reaches for the stole, wrapping it around his shoulders, as he heads out onto the balcony of his Parisian apartment. Cigarette in hand, Jongin reminisces moments he and Junmyeon had spent in this very apartment, wrapped up in one another. 

Parisian traffic, both vehicular and people alike, keeps him company. Faintly, he hears someone call his name. The inflection is familiar, like his mother’s cooking he has not tasted for years. _Junmyeon…_

He looks down to see Junmyeon. He looks the way he always does: perfect. Jongin’s heart stutters. What are you doing down there, he wants to ask. He’s too far away, just out of Jongin’s reach. Jongin leans his body weight against the railing, trying to get to the apparition of the man he loves. His feet are unsteady against the bars of the railing. “Junmyeon—”

**Author's Note:**

> this is my second time writing for the tiny sparks fest, and of course it had to be this ship that doesn't get as much love as it deserves! the ballet jongin performs is giselle, which is breathtaking. i left it purposely open-ended so what happens to jongin is up to interpretation. i would love to hear what you think! i hope you enjoyed this little offering (✿◠‿◠) comments and kudos are always appreciated.


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